Blurring Out the Past
by beaniehigurashi
Summary: England's tired of his boring life of being a nation, and now he's finally decided to go through with the plan of running away from his responsibilities and living a life as a regular human in a different country. Although, despite what he thinks, there are a couple nations, especially one, that are upset with his disappearance, and want him back. UsUk. FrUk friendship.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hello~ So for a long time, I kinda left the Hetalia fandom (I got caught up in other fandoms instead), but lately I've been getting into it again (UsUk stuff, tbh), and now I'm getting the inspiration to write up another big story, like Regret. So uh… I hope whoever reads this will enjoy :)**

It was all stupid. Pointless. Being a nation wasn't even worth the hard work anymore. That's what England was thinking, anyways. He remembers how it was in the beginning. It was easy, and he felt free. But now it's all just work, work, work: business trips to other countries, filling out paperwork, world meetings. On the rare occasions he had a few days off, it was filled with nothing but tea and boredom. There isn't much for him to do anymore. Everyone else in London just goes about their daily lives happily.

England, when he was a much younger nation, used to wish he could join the people of his land as a normal human. Unfortunately, he somehow always stuck out in one way or another. Although, over the years, especially his pirate years and the his time as an empire, he quite enjoyed being a nation, having power. But now that all of that's over, his life just seems dull and pointless. He's never understood his and the other nations' existences. What was the point of being alive?

Thoughts like these always circle his mind whenever he wakes up, whenever he's eating, and even when he's trying to fall asleep. They pester him constantly, even when he's doing work that'll benefit his country.

… His country…

Is it really his? Does he really want it to be his anymore? It is a rather beautiful country, he'll admit. He's proud of how well it has been through the years. But being proud isn't enough anymore.

He craves being a regular human: going to school, falling in love, herring a job, getting old with a spouse. It may seem simple, but to England it seems like heaven. But alas, the dream of him becoming one of the humans will never truly happen. He's stuck with the fate of being a nation; a personification of a country that now seems gray and boring.

If only there was something he could do… He's thought of magic, although there aren't any spells that could help him. Then again, is that a bad thing? Does he really want to leave behind the other nations? The only friends he has ever known?

Perhaps.

Maybe it'll be a chance to get some true enjoyment in his life. Just maybe. But how will he even start? Can he really just pack up his things and leave? Is it really that easy?

He wonders if any of the other nations desire the same thing he does. Maybe he could find out, and get some insight on the idea from them. Then again, maybe he's alone with this thought as well. He seems to always be alone.

 _I want to be someone..._

He's tired of only being referred to as a nation, a personification, etc. He wants to be known as something more. Something that gives his life meaning.

Sitting there at his kitchen table, he makes a decision. He's sure it'll be the right thing to do. He's done with these thoughts plaguing his mind. It's time for him to do something, no matter how much it might affect anyone else.

Then again, would it actually affect anyone? There's only a few nations he considers his friends and vice versa. The others don't really give a damn about him, and he feels the same towards them as well. Maybe that can be his motivation. Living as a human… he'd be able to start anew. He'd be able to be _someone_.

He reaches into his pants pocket and takes out his phone. Hesitantly, he turns it on and finds France's contact number, calling him. He can feel his heart beating faster as the phone rings into his ear, waiting for France to pick up. France is the only one who knows about his need for being like a human. He never meant for France to find out, but he should've known it'd slip out sometime during their times at the pub.

"Hello? Angleterre?" a voice on the other end says. England gulps and sighs before answering, his hands feeling clammy all of a sudden.

"Francis, I…" He stops. For some reason, it's hard for him to get the words out. He had the words on the tip of his tongue, but now they've jumped into the back of his throat, unwilling to be released.

"Ohh, are you trying to confess your love to me, mon cher~?" France jokes, chuckling a little.

That brought England out of his trance, a frown making its way onto his face before a serious expression replaced it. "No! I… I think it is time, you know, for me to go…"

France is silent on the other end. England knows that France understands what he's trying to say. France has always known him best, even when they were younger.

He hears France clearing his throat on the other end of the phone. England once again feels anxious, hoping that France will be there for him instead of trying to change his mind. France has told him in the past that he doesn't completely agree with what England desires. But... he also said that if it's something that'll make him happy, he'll be there for him. That won't change, right?

"I see…" France finally speaks, and England feels a little at ease to hear his stupid French voice. "Well, it can't be helped, I suppose. What would you like me to do?"

A huge weight feels like it has been lifted off England's chest. He's happy that France ended up being on his side about this whole thing. He still feels kind of clammy, as if he might suddenly burst. He's trying to control his rampant emotions, trying to keep himself calm so that he can finish this conversation and get on with his plans. He begins pacing around the kitchen, taking deep breaths as he tries to find the words to explain his plan.

"I'm thinking about heading to Scotland if he'll let me stay there, and hopefully… come up with some kind of life to live and be happy." Again, there's silence on the other end. Although, this time England doesn't feel worried about it. He actually doesn't know what he feels. In a way, he feels happy, a bubble of excitement rising in his chest, since he knows that he's truly doing this. He's truly planning to do something useful with his life. He's not going to just be moping around thinking about what life could be like. He'll actually be living a life. Finally.

"All I need from you to do is not tell anybody where I am."


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: There will be Scottish people talking in this, but since I have no idea how to type Scottish accents, I'll just write them as regular speaking patterns, and readers can imagine them as Scottish ^^"**

It's been about two weeks. Two weeks since his decision. In England's opinion, it was probably the best decision of his life. At first, it had been hard picking out which items of his he should take with him and which ones he should leave. He had France help him with that, though, so at least he hadn't been dealing with it all by himself.

Right now, he's in Scotland's country. For the past couple weeks, he's been staying at a hotel, trying to come up with plans as to how he's going to live his life now. It's strange. Whenever he had been dreaming of letting go of his life as a nation, he had all these crazy ideas of what he could do with a new life. But now that it's actually happening… he just doesn't know where to begin. There are lots of possibilities in the world. So many that it's too hard to just pick one.

Today he's going to leave the hotel and stay with his older brother Scotland. At first, when he had talked yesterday about what he's planning, Scotland was very surprised and didn't want to help him, saying it's his "duty to stay a nation and nothing else". But after a heartfelt conversation, England had managed to sway him and convince him to let him stay at his place for a bit.

He has his suitcases in hand as he walks down the street towards the Scotsman's house. He's only been there for business trips. But now… he'll be staying the night there for who knows how long.

When he gets to the doorstep of the house, he suddenly starts doubting his decision. He has no idea why, but he feels like maybe this entire idea was stupid and that he should just return to his home country. A surge of confidence rushes through him as he reminds himself why he's doing all of this in the first place. This situation was completely inevitable. This would've happened sooner or later, no doubt.

He knocks on the wooden door, taking in a deep breath as he tries to calm his pounding heart. He stands there silently as he waits for Scotland to answer the door, and when he does, he jumps a little. There's definitely no turning back…

"Thank you, Allistor…" he mumbles quietly, his voice piercing the slightly tense air. He and his brother haven't always gotten along in the past, but at the moment, they're on good terms, and he wants it to stay that way. He's led into the house, and he breathes in the scent of the house that envelops him. It's a relaxing smell, and he basically melts into it as Scotland walks past him to show him the way to his new room. His new room…

 _Ah, that's right. This will be my "home" for a while._

When he they arrive to the doorway of the guest bedroom, Scotland immediately leaves to go continue whatever he had been doing before England arrived. England's thankful for the privacy as he enters the room, setting down his suitcase. This place is so much different from his, and yet he can't find himself to think of it as annoying. In fact, the way everything is so different makes him feel like his dreams are truly coming true. There's nothing reminding him of his old life, nothing to make him miss the old times.

The first thing he does is pull out his phone and call France, as he had promised yesterday to do once he had gotten to the Scotsman's house. If it weren't for France's support, he probably wouldn't have gotten this far, as much as he hates to admit it.

"Ah~ So you're still alive, huh, mon cheri?" France's voice rang through the phone, his comment causing England to scowl.

"Shut up, frog. You sound disappointed about that," he replies calmly. He's surprised to find that he's able to keep his voice even. Then again, this isn't like the conversation they had a couple weeks ago. This is completely different.

France lets out his signature laugh. "Oh no, mon amour. I truly would be sad if you were to be hurt," he says. England rolls his eyes at the "mon amour" part, and decides to ignore it for once. He has more important things he needs to talk to France about.

"Anyways… there's a world meeting coming up, correct?"

France suddenly changes into a series tone as he speaks, instantly realizing that an important conversation was about to happen. "That is right," he says. "There's one being held in Spain in a few days."

That's what England thought. He really didn't want to talk about world meetings at the moment, but he knew that this conversation needed to happen. If this plan was going to completely work, he needs a certain favor from the Frenchman.

"If anyone ever asks where I am during the upcoming meeting, or even ones after that, I'd like you to tell them that I am just terribly ill and that I'm not to be bothered."

He's sure this plan will work. People from his government don't check up on him unless they need him for something important. It'll take a long time for them to realize that he's been gone. As for the other nations, they'll easily fall for the lie that he's sick or any other excuse France can come up with in the future if the sickness one doesn't work anymore. Even if his government were to find out about his disappearance, they won't tell the other nations. It'd be a secret kept from everyone. At least, that's what he's sure will happen.

"Understood, mon cheri."

They decide to change the topic and discuss light topics, occasionally bantering without any actual venom behind their words. After a while, they decide to end the phone call, England promising to call him if anything comes up.

 _What should I do when I have so many options available?_

He unpacks his stuff, pondering his life. Once he's done with that, he decides that maybe some fresh air will help him think better. He's always enjoyed walking around outside back in his home country, and there's no reason for that habit to change just because he's in a different country.

He heads out of the house and walks around the roads, looking at the scenery that's growing around him. He wanders around mindlessly, stopping to look interesting things every once in a while. He soon finds himself standing in front of a small school. He sees some kids in uniforms leaving the building and looks at his watch to see that it's about the appropriate time for most schools to be let out.

He walks closer towards the school, avoiding any contact with the students that pass by him. Most of the students ignore his existence as he makes his way to the main entrance doors. He stands near it for a while, although he soon feels kind of uncomfortable being surrounded by lots of teenagers. Sure, he's dealt with some in the past, but not in a situation like this. Definitely not like this.

He suddenly feels a tap on his shoulder, causing him to basically jump out of his skin. He whips around to see who touched him and comes face to face with some teenage boy. _Shit, this was not supposed to happen…_

"You waiting for someone or something?"

Ugh, that grammar was awful. Just that one sentence had England cringing a little. Then again, this is a different country than his, so it's not going to be what he's used to.

It's hard at first, but England finally finds his voice again. "Ah, no…" is all he manages to get out.

The teen scoffs at him a little and gives him this weird look. "Then why're you still here at the school? Don't you just want to leave here?"

Realization hits England hard. This kid must think he's a student at the school as well. Even though he wasn't expecting that, he's not exactly surprised by the teen's assumptions. A lot of the nations look younger than they actually are, and he's actually been mistaken for a teen more than once in other countries. It doesn't help that at the moment he's only wearing a t-shirt and black pants. He didn't look formal like he usually did.

"I'm… new here?" The words fly out of his mouth before he can stop them. He's digging himself further and further into the ground. Before he can take back what he said, a thought comes to him. What if he were to actually become a student here?

He's always wondered about how teens feel and what their lives are like. He never had a true teenage life; no nation has. His "teenage years" as a nation were full of wars and bloodshed. This could be his chance to create a new life. He could learn the ways of the younger people, and live a life like an actual human being.

"I can tell from your accent," the kid says, grinning. The boy loosens his tie before completely taking it off. "Well, hopefully you'll like it here. Although, I warn you that it can get chaotic." With that, the kid takes off, heading to a small group of teens and starts walking with them.

Looks like England has found his new pathway.


	3. Chapter 3

It was the day of another meeting. America groans at the thought as he fixes his crooked tie. The only thing he's looking forward to is seeing all his friends there. Other than that, everything about world meetings bores him. Sitting there and taking notes and listening to people talk about conflicts and economies are something he definitely doesn't enjoy. He's too much of a hero to have to be forced to go to those meetings and sit through all of that.

Although, if he were to be honest, he'll admit he's actually looking forward to something better than his friends. He'll be happy to see a certain someone there, someone who was missing at the last meeting: England. France had told him that England was too sick to go to that meeting, although America has a feeling that England will be well enough to go to this one. He hasn't been able to get in contact with England since he learned he was sick, all of his calls going straight to voicemail.

Slipping on his favorite bomber jacket, he heads outside of the hotel room. Walking out of the hotel building, he begins his walking journey towards the building that the meeting will be held. As soon as he reaches the entrance to the large gray building, he runs inside and immediately spots a familiar face, causing a smile to break out on his face.

"Francis! Yo!" he exclaims, catching the Frenchman's attention. America jogs over to him, accompanying him to the elevator.

"Ah, Amérique, you're surprisingly early. You're usually one of the last ones to arrive," France replies joyfully.

America lets out a roar of laughter. "I know right! I just wanted to get this stupid meeting over with!"

France chuckles at that, pressing an elevator button that will lead them to the floor the meeting's held on. He mumbles out a "Don't we all" before letting a comfortable silence take over them. It's pretty early in the morning, so the quiet peace is quite relaxing to the both of them.

When the elevator doors open, the two nations step out and walk into the nearest doorway. They're greeted with the faces of a few other nations that have arrived early, such as Japan, China, Switzerland, and a couple others. A frown settles upon America's face when he realizes that England's nowhere to be found. He's usually one of the first people to arrive, having once said that it's proper to be early instead of risking being late.

 _Does this mean he's still sick…? That can't be…_

He turns his attention back to France. "Dude, where's Arthur? It seems he's not here."

A strange look passes through France's eyes, something that America can't make out. France is silent for a few moments before saying "He's ill" and slipping away to a small group of nations.

America desperately wanted to stop him, to keep interrogating him. He's always been known to not be able to read the atmosphere very well, but that quick glint in France's eyes easily caught his attention. It seems as if… France knows some kind of secret. If only America could just ignore it, pass it off as something unimportant, but it seems his mind and heart desire to know what it is that France is obviously hiding.

~oOo~

Things seem to be going well for England so far. It's been about a week since he's made his decision. When he told Scotland about it, he was just given a weird look before being left alone once again.

Somehow Scotland had managed to get England enrolled into the school. Even though Scot had obviously been wary of England's choice, he still decided to help him and do what he needed to do.

Now here he was, sitting in a classroom full of people he's never met before. He finds it a little fun to sit back and quietly observe the way the teenagers of this country interact. Living a life as a human teenager is a concept foreign to him. Sure, he's heard what it's like, and has seen instances of what teens are like on the streets of his own country, but he's never been a part of it before, so this experience is definitely exciting.

He heard from France yesterday. It had been the first time in a few days since he and the Frenchman had talked last. He was informed of a meeting that was going to happen today. He thought it was a coincidence that it took place on the same day as his first day of school, the first day of his new life.

No one seems to pay much mind to him. The teenagers are all huddled in separate groups, talking amongst themselves. He decides that it's getting boring watching others and stands up from his seat in the back of the room. He walks out of the classroom, heading towards the nearest bathroom. Class hasn't started yet, so he still has some time to spare. He might as well spend that time checking the place out, starting with the restroom.

He sighs to himself as he walks into the bathroom, but then lets out a small squeal of surprise as he finds himself on the floor. He sits up and looks in front of himself to see a student in front of him, also on the ground, rubbing his head.

"Ah, sorry for that. I guess I wasn't paying attention," the student says, giving a sheepish grin.

England gives him a similar face, trying to keep himself calm. _It's only a human. There's nothing to get freaked out over._

"U-Um… are you okay?" What is he supposed to say? It's taking all his willpower to not stand up and run like hell. It's so strange to him, the concept of interacting with _humans_ , people that are normal.

The teen looks at England with a surprised expression before smiling. "You're British, huh? I'm guessing you're the new student that I've been hearing a little about."

Ah, so people _do_ know about him. He didn't think it'd be announced anywhere. He must just stand out from the rest of the crowd. Surely these people know each other, or at least their faces, so it's obvious he's new since they don't recognize him.

"Heh, yeah. I'm Arthur. It's nice to meet you," he says, sticking his hand out to the boy. The teenager gives him a sad grin.

"You're a nice one, eh? Your kind don't usually survive around here. Almost everyone in this school is an ass to some extent."

England didn't want to believe the words he was hearing. No way this place could be that bad… right? Then again, he never even bothered to look up anything about the school. All he knew was that it was close to Scot's house, making it easy to get there and back.

The boy helps him up, although he barely notices the boy walk by him without another word. He's consumed in his thoughts, hoping that the place wasn't as bad as the teen made it out to be.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:** I'm so sorry about the late update! ^^"

Several decades ago, England had gone through what most called a "punk phase". His people of his country began to act rebellious. New fashion statements had been made, heavy rock and metal bands arose, and teens all over acted out of control. It had been the norm for a long while. No one cared for rules or morals from before then, and everyone acted crazy. This caused their personification to do the same thing. At first, it had scared the other nations at world meetings, since England was usually calm and composed. They never expected him to bring a guitar to one of the meetings and randomly flip people off while wearing ridiculous punk clothing and having several parts of his face pierced.

Those were the ages that England immediately got reminded of during his first few days at the crazy school. No one there seemed to care about others that weren't apart of their groups or cliques. Some form of bullying happened around almost every corner England turned, and it was beginning to worry him. There's no way he could survive this place if he acts the way he does now. After about a week of going to that school, he made a decision.

Walking through the gates of the school, he holds his head up with pride and newfound confidence. Instead of his usual school uniform attire, he's wearing some new clothes he bought the other day, something that just _yells_ "punk".

He has on tight black jeans, combat boots, piercings, which were fake, along with accessories such as a spike collar and fingerless gloves. As soon as students saw him, their eyes widen with surprise and interest. England smirks to himself, reveling in the nostalgic feeling he's getting from this outfit. He has to admit that he misses his punk days from back then. Those were fun times for sure, especially since he was actually able to scare France with his unpredictable stunts. He once drove a motorcycle straight into France's house, and France's scream as he did so had definitely made his day.

He quickly makes his way to his class, being wary of any teachers that might pop out of nowhere and scold him before he even has a chance to put this outfit to any use. He sits down in his usual seat, fumbling with his glove, thinking to himself how he's going to pull this off, until he realizes some people have started crowding around him, their eyes full of amusement.

"Can I help you?" The words come out smoothly like silk. He's still not used to talking to people here, so for him to easily talk to these people, these _obviously popular people_ , is a big surprise to him.

"You know that outfit of yours is against school code." One of the boys around him, a shaggy black haired guy, breaks the small silence, grinning. England can tell he doesn't actually care about that, and is actually proud that someone is defying the rules.

"Oh? Are you going to tell on me, little boy?" England asks, returning the smile, a glint of mischievousness appearing in his eyes. The teen boy looks taken aback at the comment for only a second before composing himself and chuckling.

"What caused you to suddenly dress like _that_?" one of the girls pipes in, a hand resting on her hip, a smile gracing her youthful face as perfect auburn curls falls around her face to her shoulders.

"Well, I'm sure there are plenty people here who hate the damn uniforms. I guess I'm the only brave enough one here to disobey the rules, even braver than you guys," England replies, popping his knuckles.

The four teens around him shuffle around him awkwardly, taking in his words. England thinks that maybe he was a little too straightforward until the other boy of the group, a redhead, begins laughing, shocking all of them. "Ah~ Yes, yes, we are too afraid to do anything as drastic as you have. Maybe one day you could show us how to overcome that fear, hm?"

The other girl of the group, a cute blonde, chimes in as well. "Ooh, that would be lovely! Surely, you'd be able to do that, wouldn't you, Arthur?"

Arthur grins at them. He suddenly has a feeling that being here won't be so bad anymore.

~oOo~

It's been a long time since America has visited England's home. Not centuries, only a few years. Sometimes he'd go to England's place just to talk to him about random nonsense while the other complained about him being annoying. Although, for the past several years, he's been too busy with economics to go see England, so the only times he'd ever see England was at world meetings.

America knew something was up when France was acting weird when he asked about England. There's got to be something going on, and it's up to him—the hero— to find out what it is.

As soon as he's in England, he heads to his destination, a place he'll always have memorized: England's house.

When he arrives, the first thing he notices is that the roses surrounding England's house were basically dead, surprising America. England always took very good care of his roses. They were like his pride and joy. To see them brown and wilting… America can only think of this being proof that something weird is going on with England. Sure, England was apparently ill, but he knows that sickness wouldn't stop the Englishman from tending to his roses.

He knocks on the door and then rings the doorbell after a while of no one answering. He tries to open the door himself, and, to his surprise, it opens, which is strange, since England always keeps it locked, just in case.

He slowly walks inside the house, closing the door behind him. He turns on some of the lights, brightening up the place instantly. He walks around the house, checking every room. He notices that there are still old dishes in the sink in England's kitchen, dishes that look like they've been there for a long time. There's no sign of anyone living here at the moment. There aren't even any cups of tea lying around like there usually are. Much to America's horror, it was as if the Englishman had suddenly disappeared.


End file.
